


An internal struggle

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Attempt at Humor, But kinda cute, Crack, Gay Panic, Getting Together, Internal Monologue, M/M, Post-Time Skip, SakuAtsu, Some Cursing, This Is STUPID, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25923505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: There is but one diagnosis,the first Atsumu declares, holding his own newly manifested pen in the air, as a light bulb flickered above him,this is a classic example of the well known and well documented Gay Panic™.After running away from his teammate Sakusa Kiyoomi, Atsumu's last two brain cells, that are just as inept as himself, try to figure out what's going on.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 30
Kudos: 213
Collections: My favorite haikyuu fics





	An internal struggle

There’s a little voice -

Pfft. That’s a lie.

There’s a massive orchestra -

Nope, too pretentious.

There’s two men in rumpled shirts and dress trousers, their coats lost somewhere, nursing coffees while gazing at a corkboard strewn with images and string in an old dingy office -basement- in Atsumu’s head.

That’s better.

These two men are haggard with bruised eye bags and tousled, almost greasy, hair. There’s damp creeping along the ceiling, mold behind the cabinets. The coffee the men are nursing is black and burnt, functional rather than enjoyable. These two men look the exact same, and both of them are -for lack of a better descriptive and no other word capable of wholly encapsulating the complexity of their personalities - idiots. Basically, two mini Miya Atsumus. 

_So here’s the deal,_ they say (but not say because, remember, they're not real, just manifestations of Atsumu's spiraling thoughts) pointing at two pictures _Atsumu has run away from his teammate and sometimes friend; one Sakusa Kiyoomi. This here blonde man with the cocky grin that’s supposed to exude confidence and indifference? That would be Atsumu. The other scowling, mask wearing, beautiful, black haired man with those perfectly symmetrical-_

"Shut up shut up shut up." Atsumu tries to tell his brain, out loud. 

There’s a pause.

 _The other one is said Sakusa Kiyoomi._ Atsumu number two finishes after real Atsumu’s little hissy fit. _Us two singular brain cells_ (which is a generous amount really) _are here to understand what exactly happened between these two men that has real Atsumu lying on the floor of his apartment groaning into a cushion._

 _How nice,_ the other intersects sardonically, _he doesn’t want to disturb the neighbours._ One of which just so happens to be the man of the hour; Sakusa Kiyoomi.

 _Let's consider the evidence,_ brain cell numero uno, begins, rising from the computer chair he was sitting on, and promptly stumbles.

 _You're an oaf,_ the other one is scowling after taking a drink of horrid coffee.

 _I am you!_ The first screams back, _we are literally the exact same figment of this disaster's imagination._

 _No we're not._ Number two replies. His hair is starting to morph from light yellow to… grey, now black? And has the side of his parting… switched?

Of course his conscience contains his sometimes better twin -but also never if anyone, especially said twin, asks.

Brain cell number one straightens and shoots the second Atsumu (now Osamu) a withering look, before returning to the board and plucking lightly at a string leading to a picture of a cartoonish Atsumu dashing out of the team locker room not 15 minutes earlier.

 _Hmm,_ brain cell two hops off the desk he had been sitting on, allowing some papers to fall with him, his hair was now blonde again, but the parting was still wrong. He stood beside number one, took a swig from a coffee cup, the contents of which never changed, and pointed at another picture. _I mean,_ he started circling the picture in red marker, _I’m pretty sure this is the reason._

 _Yes but, what exactly about this? I mean, they interact all the time._ Number one asked scratching his head.

_Well, he was practically holding his hand, and then did that thing where he looked up under his eyelashes and his eyes were all dark..._

Both mechanically took a step back from the cork board and hummed knowingly.

 _There is but one diagnosis,_ the first Atsumu declares holding his own newly manifested pen in the air, as a light bulb flickered above him, _this is a classic example of the well known and well documented Gay Panic™._

 _Ugh,_ the second Atsumu (sometimes Osamu but now fully morphed back into Atsumu, god this is hurting real Atsumu’s head) groaned, _such a basic bit-_

“Shut up!” real Atsumu groaned again, smacking himself through the cushion. He needed to clear his mind. He needed to wipe it clean. Deep breaths. Blank. Nothingness. He needed it emptied. Blank and black. His mind was a chalkboard not a cork board. It was empty like a void, like a starless night sky, like dilated pupils in already near black eyes-

 _Welcome back folks,_ second Atsumu brain cell announced, now dressed as a newsreader, glasses and stack of papers and all, _he is now, once again, thinking about Sakusa Kiyoomi’s eyes, a very dangerous thought in his opinion. And I would know, I am his thought process._

There was a knock at the door.

Real Atsumu shot up, letting the cushion fall to the floor beside him, and eyed where the noise had come from. There was every possibility he had imagined it, his mind had conjured up more ridiculous things in the past ten minutes.

_Hey, rude!_

After a couple of minutes, where Atsumu remained in the floor, there was another knock, no different than before.

Slowly, Atsumu got to his feet, and padded the few meters to the entrance. He checked the peephole before swinging the door open.

 _Ohh, now this is a curve-ball straight outta left field!_ One brain cell squeals.

 _Is that even a valid metaphor, does that even make sense? We don't watch baseball._ Second brain cell is not impressed.

_That doesn't matter! You get what I mean look, now we're distracted and I'm pretty sure Omi-Omi just asked us a question._

_What?_

"Wha?" Atsumu asks, trying to focus on reality and the physical, real human that’s in front of him at his door, that he just opened. The person that he didn’t even greet. Why did he even open the door?

Sakusa Kiyoomi's eyes furrowed more than they had been.

 _That's pretty,_ brain cell number two sighs wistfully, head falling into his propped up hands. They were still in the dingy old basement, but the cork board was now a large plasma screen TV, through which they were watching this interaction from the comfort of their own recliner armchairs.

 _Shh,_ number one hushes, he has popcorn now. _We’ll end up missing what he says again._ He digs his hand into the striped box and brings his face down to meet it. 

"I asked what happened earlier." Sakusa is saying very carefully.

"Ah well tha’ was jus’ y'know -"

 _Gay panic,_ both brain cells state.

"Like, things, it was jus’,"

 _Gay. Panic,_ they repeat slower.

"I just-"

 _Gay. Pan. Icked._ They're getting fed up with him, and they are him.

"Y’know?" Atsumu is saying.

"No. You said exactly nothing." Sakusa is watching him so damn carefully, eyes fixed on his, as if trying to read something in them.

Brain cell one leans over to brain cell two, _D'ya think he can see us?_

He's met with a glare and a sharp smack to the head. _I'm trying to watch,_ number two replies.

“Ha ha-”

_Did he actually say ‘ha ha’ like, out loud?_

_Yup._

_Fuck._

“It’s fine, nothin’, don’ worry. Thanks for helping me with my wrist, ‘s feelin’ a lot better,” Atsumu said, waving the wrist Sakusa had helped him wrap after practise. The wrist that he had held so carefully. The wrist that he had then looked up at him from with those dark eyes under those long lashes.

“Oh course I’m going to worry, Miya, I always do.” Sakusa replied matter-of-factly but… was that also a hint of fondness? Of care?

 _What does that mean?_ Atsumu two was just a tinsy tiny little bit flustered.

 _I don’t know, why are you asking me, you’re supposed to be the smarter one!_ Atsumu one squealed back.

_How do you not know? All you need is to use a little critical discourse analysis!_

_We are literally the same person! How should I know if you don't?_

_Ugh_

_Also what the hell is critical discourse analysis?_

_How should I know?_

_Because you just said it!_

_If you don’t know, how should I know?_

They were now panicking. That was it. Atsumu’s last two brain cells had stopped working. There were now no thought processes to control what he said. His face was blank, there was nothing going on there, and Atsumu knew this because it felt like he was watching himself from outside his body, on a large plasma screen TV, in an office -basement- with damp creeping along the ceiling and mold behind the cabinets. He felt so independent of his body and what it did, that he couldn’t stop it from saying what it did.

“My last two brain cells have stopped working,” Atsumu’s body stated. He could only watch as his face remained completely blank and Sakusa looked like he was going to snap something back when his stupid fucking body said the next part. He could trust absolutely zero part of himself anymore. “I’m gay panicking.”

And now he was back in said traitor vessel, looking at Sakusa Kiyoomi directly in the eye as he tried to process what Atsumu had said (but not a fully functioning Atsumu so he can’t take all the blame -but that doesn’t work- look okay let’s just not blame him, he’s going through enough already).

The other man was looking at him intently, eyebrows slightly furrowed and eyes narrowed, “I’m sorry, you’re what?”

Atsumu quickly racked his brain to see if there was anything there that could help him, but nope, it had been entirely evacuated.

“I, eh,” he started to scratch the back of his neck, stalling, and Sakusa raised an eyebrow before Atsumu deflated and decided it was safer to not look at the man in front of him, “I am gay panicking.” He stated it this time with a little more confidence, trying, trying to regain some sense of dignity. Although he was looking at the ceiling.

There was a solitary laugh from somewhere in the recesses of his brain.

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to disappear alongside any sense he once had.

“Can I ask why?” Sakusa’s voice was calm and collected as he asked the question.

 _Oh god_. Now an Atsumu decided to show up, peaking its little stupid head around a corner.

“I mean, ya can but I may not answer ya.”

 _Smooth,_ another Atsumu snorted.

Sakusa heaved a long suffering sigh, and Atsumu imagined he was pinching his nose, or rubbing his temple.

A third Atsumu had arrived, _Or maybe he’s leaving?_

Atsumu’s eyes flicked open and looked to where Sakusa had been standing. He was still there. His face was composed, the slightest purse to his lips, and an eyebrow flicked up as Atsumu looked at him again.

 _Haha sap, you’re blushing, I can feel it._ This was a fourth Atsumu and where the fuck were all these guys earlier when Atsumu needed them? Maybe not this one. This one seemed like a dick.

“I-” Atsumu tried to start before groaning and burying his head in both of his hands.

 _Useless._ Another one.

“Miya,” Sakusa hesitated slightly, “is... Was it… who caused it exactly?”

 _Just tell him, you drama queen._ Atsumu was losing count now.

Atsumu let out a string of unintelligible noises. And continued to do so. And still continued to do so. Maybe if he just kept this up long enough, he could hold off on answering until he just died of, like, an oxygen deficiency.

_Asphyxiation._

Whatever. 

“Miya,” a pause, “Atsumu,” Atsumu let one eye peak from behind his fingers, but the unintelligible sounds continued, Sakusa opened his mouth to say something, then looked like he changed his mind before asking, “can you please stop that?”

Atsumu let out one last strangled sound before stopping.

“Can you look at me?”

He began to shake his head when soft fingertips landed on his wrist, and gave a slight tug. Atsumu allowed his hands to drop and braced himself, trying to look at Sakusa’s face, really trying, but also really failing.

_Oh, this is gonna be rough._

Atsumu felt himself physically flinch at that thought, which received a slight frown from Sakusa.

_Look my dude, just tell him and then -_

“Was it me?” Sakusa was looking at him earnestly, his fingertips hovering close to Atsumu’s hand.

_Wait, does he have a chance?_

“I dunno, was it?” Atsumu blurted and his brain echoed with a collective groan.

_Never mind, any chance is gone._

Sakusa sucked in a deep breath as if to sigh, or shout, or something, and Atsumu felt like a fucking idiot.

 _You are one._ Huh, this one was Osamu again.

“’m sorry, yes. Yes it was you.” Atsumu started, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Sakusa now.

_Finally grew some balls._

“I, I’m sorry if this is awkward but I really like ya, like some stupid teen movie. ‘t’s those stupid cute moles Omi-kun, and you’re deadpan humour, and the way you get excited about doing laundry, who gets excited about laundry? And the way you get hyper from one cup of coffee so you always get that sickening chai latte and-”

_What the fuck! What the fuck is happening?_

_He’s kissing him!_

_Oh my god!_

Sakusa pulled back a little flushed and embarrassed. “I” he scrunched up his nose and my god did Atsumu think that was adorable, “I hate this kind of thing but,” he sighed, looking Atsumu in the eye, “I like you too.”

“Huh. Does that mean I can kiss you again?”

“I’ll have you know I kissed you, you did not kiss me,” Sakusa retorted, a glint in his eye.

“Okay, ya bet me there, but I'll be the first to ask you out; ya wanna grab dinner or somethin’ Omi-kun?” Sakusa nodded and Atsumu grabbed his coat.

 _Did he really agree to a date after all that?_ One Atsumu asks now, incredulous.

_Maybe, just maybe, he’s just as idiotic as him slash us slash me?_

_Perfect for each other,_ the Osamu-like brain cell snorted, _gross_


End file.
